


Moving Forward

by RefrainGirl



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Humanity (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Don't copy to another site, Episode: Good Omens: Lockdown, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Patient Crowley (Good Omens), Phone Calls & Telephones, Pining Aziraphale (Good Omens), Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Post-Episode: Good Omens: Lockdown, and also a pet sourdough loaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24053782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RefrainGirl/pseuds/RefrainGirl
Summary: If what he was doing was so right, then why could he feel the frosted edges of a deep hole forming in his heart? Was he scared that this might be it? That Crowley would sleep straight on till July, as promised, and then wake up as if nothing had passed between them?Aziraphale is certain that he is in the right when he tells Crowley that they can't see each other during the lockdown. But after two weeks of hearing "goodnight angel" playing on an endless loop in his mind, the angel stops and he wonders. He starts to fear that perhaps he was wrong to expect certain things, after all. And that maybe he is two weeks too late to rectify the situation that his heart desires.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 104
Collections: Good Omens Lockdown fics





	Moving Forward

**Author's Note:**

> So everybody was writing lockdown fics like crazy when the Good Omens Lockdown video came out, and I wanted to join in on the fun too! Of course, I was nowhere near as fast as some, which makes me fashionably late (as always), but here is my obligatory lockdown fic anyway!
> 
> Also, might I just add... you guys really work fast. On that first day, so much writing, meta and art came about that I was swarmed with it, and pleasantly shocked that things escalated that quickly xD

It had been two weeks exactly since the call, and Aziraphale was beginning to wonder if he had said something wrong.

The problem was, of course, that to him, it hadn’t felt wrong. Not at all. What he had said then had felt customary, almost like a handshake upon meeting or a courteous bow to your partner before a dance. He had done no more than speak the truth, thereby providing an opportunity for a return of some kind, as he had done over the course of their entire relationship. 6,000 years of back and forth, 6,000 years of putting this into successful practice! So he couldn’t just assume that he had gotten this wrong. There was no way he possibly could have. There were no grounds for him to be even slightly considered in the wrong, in fact!

Yet, here he was now. Alone in the bookshop, pondering that same burning question with a crinkle to his eyes and teeth gnawing mercilessly on his bottom lip.

Wrong? Had be calculated this in such a way that it had gone so terribly, monstrously wrong?

“I should think not,” he huffed aloud, trying to convince himself of his innocence with no luck. “Everything that these humans are doing is important, it’s a necessary measure to preserve life as we know it! Social isolation, quarantine, this blasted lockdown… it is all necessary, and the rules cannot be broken! Lives will be put in harm’s way if they are, I am simply doing what’s right!”

Dust motes drifted about the empty air of the shop, those particles being the only things available to listen on such short notice in these dark times, and with less than reassuring inscrutability to boot; but even then, the whole surrounding atmosphere was brimming with skepticism. Everything that made up the bookshop seemed to be peering closely at Aziraphale, as if it knew of the turmoil going on deep inside. He suddenly felt the need to close the book he had been reading, just so it would quit gawking at him.

If what he was doing was so right, then why could he feel the frosted edges of a deep hole forming in his heart? Was he scared that this might be it? That Crowley would sleep straight on till July, as promised, and then wake up as if nothing had passed between them? He was certain that wasn’t the case. There was something _there_ , and that something was big and undeniably warm, linking them together more intimately than Aziraphale could have ever predicted. It was a force that had stood the test of time, and that special something had always been stuffed away deep inside, lurking, waiting for its moment to shine. Such a bond was not so easily discarded. It had survived the Apocadidn’t, after all, and that was quite a hurdle for anything to jump.

But two weeks ago, there had been another sensation, too. One that was foreign, new, and rather unsettling. Aziraphale could feel it as he uttered those words that never ceased haunting his thoughts. _I’ll see you when this is all over._ He could feel it even as Crowley muttered a last gentle goodnight, could hear it in the soft click of the call ending, signaling the conclusion of a conversation that was not at all resolved. Curse it all, he could feel it still as he sat in his chair, brooding. There had been no arguments, no attempts at convincing or tempting. The demon had simply (and quite unfairly) added another month to his planned napping schedule and promptly left it at that. No room for discussion or dissuasion.

 _That_ was where everything had gone wrong. Not the lockdown itself, that was sound, all well and good. But the resignation in Crowley’s voice… that deep sigh, the unwillingness to accept the bait, the bloody _despondency_ hiding in between the lines…

Was Aziraphale wrong to assume that Crowley would always be the one to call him back? Was it terrible of him to wait to be coerced into doing what he had usually decided upon doing anyway? Putting up a resistance to everything that was offered…

Was that really the right thing to do to Crowley?

“He isn’t being fair, but neither am I,” Aziraphale sighed at last. He leaned back in his chair, listening absently to the ancient creak of old wood as he stared at the phone. A part of him was hoping that Crowley would call him back at any second, clinging to the old habits as if they were a security blanket; but that was wishful thinking. It had to be from him. The sentiment would have no meaning if he left the persuading up to Crowley again. “Stubborn to a fault, the two of us. What a pair we make.”

* * *

After a lot of back and forth, Aziraphale had finally made up his mind. He was going to call Crowley back, before it was too late. He had to prove to the demon, and to himself, that he wasn’t going to stay stuck in the past anymore. This time, he was more than willing to match the pace. But despite this newfound burst of determination, it was a different matter entirely for Aziraphale to act upon his desires. Many times he would pick up the receiver only to drop it back down, rubbing a sweaty hand across his face as he tried to collect the scattered remains of his confidence. Sometimes he actually managed to bring it up to his ear, but when reaching over to dial the number that he had memorized so thoroughly, his fingers shook bad enough to interfere with the process. And when he had managed to finish dialing at last, he’d accidentally called the wrong person, just his luck. The lady who had picked up hadn’t been too pleased, and Aziraphale could do nothing but mutter profuse apologies as he slammed the phone back down on heated demands as to who this was and why strange men kept calling her.

Before he knew it a half hour had passed since he had decided to call Crowley, and that knowledge was proving to be rather irritating. “Why, this is perfectly absurd,” he muttered as he anxiously paced the room, arms folded tightly behind his back. “Alright, Aziraphale, it’s easy. You’ve done it thousands of times in the past, his number is practically muscle memory by now. It doesn’t even require a thought! Just ring him, you silly goose!”

His eyes wandered over to the phone again, taunting him with its nonchalance, and Aziraphale frowned. He wasn’t going to let an inanimate object get the better of him. He was an angel, for Heaven’s sake! He had faced down Satan with nothing more than a flaming sword and a pocket full of hope. Of course, back then he also had Crowley standing beside him, and Adam. But regardless, one single phone call was literally nothing compared to the severity of past events! He could do this much, he _would_ do this much - if not for himself, then for Crowley. The demon deserved to have someone call him back, for a change. Honestly, he deserved a lot more than he had received over the centuries, especially from Aziraphale.

So that was it, then. No more beating around the bush. Nodding resolutely to himself, Aziraphale strode back over to his desk and reached over with a slightly more steadied hand to pick up the receiver. He found himself taking a long, slow breath and holding it while he punched in the numbers. Breathing may not have been a requirement for angels or demons, but somehow this simple act was helping to keep his hand steady. One number clicked into place, and then the next, and then the next…

As soon as the final number went through, Aziraphale let out the breath, turning it into an elated sigh. He had put in the correct number, but the deed was only partway done. He still had to do his best to talk Crowley out of his two month long slumber. That is, if he wasn’t already blissfully at it.

Two days, hadn’t he said, before he would be taking his nap? Right…

Aziraphale sunk into his chair, staring down at his desk without truly seeing it. He had more than likely hesitated for too long. Crowley was a deep sleeper, and it was quite hard to wake him once he had settled himself comfortably. He might not hear the ring of his phone. Actually, it was a near certainty that he wouldn’t. This whole endeavor might become an exercise of futility in the end.

“Well, if that is the case, I will leave him a message and await an answer.”

That option didn’t sound fulfilling either, but it was all that Aziraphale could do in light of the situation. He wasn’t about to break the rules and head over to Crowley’s flat. No matter his feelings, he firmly believed that this lockdown was important, and he was going to do his best to encourage the humans to follow his example. Their safety was dependent on adhering to these strict rules, even if they seemed invasive and unpleasant. He had to be a positive role model, nevermind that he couldn’t get sick. It was the principle of the thing. He had to persevere so that others could find it in themselves to persevere, as well.

All he could do for himself was wait and see if Crowley answered, and if he did, well…

The sudden click in Aziraphale’s ear startled him to sit up straighter, and a beat of tense silence followed before he heard an achingly familiar yawn. “… H’lo?” a gruff, sleep-tinged voice eventually mumbled.

Thank Someone, the demon had been awake! Ah, sort of. Still, there was no stopping Aziraphale’s smile now that it had all but taken over his face. “Oh, Crowley!” he gushed with ample cheer. “Hello again. It’s me!”

More silence floated through the line for a moment, closely accompanied by an exasperated sigh. “Yup, ‘s why I picked up,” Crowley said. It sounded like he was being muffled by something, a pillow maybe. “Anybody else I’d let go to voicemail.”

Trying to ignore the sweetness of that statement for a moment, Aziraphale twisted the cord around his finger. “I must admit, I wasn’t sure if you would answer. I thought you might be deep in sleep, and it sounds like I was right. Sorry to disturb you…”

“Nah, forget it.” There was a bit of shuffling before Crowley next spoke, this time sounding clearer and more alert. “I was lightly napping, you didn’t disturb me. ‘M not devastatingly tired anyway, just bored out of my wits.”

“Well, you are more of an active sort, to be sure. This lockdown must be hard to deal with.”

“You’ve no idea how badly I miss driving my Bentley. It’s almost cruel how long the old girl’s been sitting untouched, undriven! Oh angel, what I wouldn’t give for a trip to _anywhere_ right now, even Tadfield.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but imagine how nice it would feel to go on one of those long country drives with the windows down and the music up. Crowley kept his eyes on the road for the most part, but sometimes he would glance over at Aziraphale and quirk the corners of his mouth up ever so slightly. The most beautiful of smiles that had ever been brought into existence, blindingly ethereal for a demon. They were usually quite short-lived, since every time Crowley decided to look his way a poor pedestrian happened to be walking by. Aziraphale was always the first to break the sanctity of the moment by shrieking at him to watch the road, and Crowley would simply frown-pout and roll his eyes as he swerved effortlessly around the paling human. In their defence, the swerving had probably looked and felt more like a near miss than anything else.

Oh, how he missed those outings, short and sweet as they were. Aziraphale lifted a finger to reverently stroke the bottom edge of an old, faded photo he had left on his desk. Dark glasses stared back at him as Crowley smiled a smile that remained unchanged by time, and it made Aziraphale yearn so badly for the demon’s company. He wondered if Crowley had the other half hidden away in his flat somewhere, or if he too had pulled it out to admire on long, dreary nights like tonight.

“A trip would be a nice treat after all those days spent inside, but that will have to wait a while longer yet. I can’t say I’m faring much better, either. One can only bake so much before baking becomes a chore, and when it does, I tend to create things that prefer not to be eaten.”

Crowley snickered a little. “That sourdough loaf giving you trouble again?”

“No! Of course not! That was, and still is, a perfectly good loaf!”

“Angel, it tried to maul your face off.”

“That’s only because he lacked the proper training, which I am amending!”

“ _He_?” Crowley asked, incredulous. “You’re calling the loaf a ‘he’?”

Aziraphale pouted a little. It didn’t help matters, since Crowley couldn’t see his face, but the spirit was there. “Oh, of course not! How absurd,” he scoffed. “I’ve decided to call him Gran.”

“Gran.”

“Yes. As in grain, minus the I. Clever, don’t you think?”

He thought he could hear Crowley sarcastically clearing his throat. “Yeah, clever name. Wish I had such a talent for naming bread that’s come to life.”

Aziraphale shook his head before hunkering down, covering up his end of the receiver. Out of the corner of his eye he had caught Gran slinking his way down the stairs, leaving a sticky yeast trail in his wake, and he didn’t want to risk the loaf hearing him. “Accident though he may have been, he’s been proving to be quite the decent companion! Over the two weeks since you and I spoke, I’ve taught him how to sit, stay and roll over! And he doesn’t try to jump onto my face and consume me quite as much. I really think we’re bonding!”

“That’s, er, great. Good job, Aziraphale.”

Gran had been slowly sliding across the floorboards while they talked, and he was about to head for the carpet when Aziraphale took proper notice of him. “Oh no. Could you hang on for a moment, dear?” he asked, placing a hand over the mouthpiece to call over to the loaf. “Gran! Don’t go on the carpet, you know how messy it gets! I prefer not to spend hours picking hair and dirt out of you afterward!”

Upon hearing his voice Gran stopped, although the scoundrel looked like he was considering going onto the carpet anyway. But Aziraphale gave him a sterner look that stalled his plans. “Now Gran, remember what we discussed,” he reminded him. After a few moments, the loaf deflated in a sigh of defeat and came sliding over to Aziraphale’s chair instead.

“That’s a good loaf,” he said, smiling down at Gran before removing his hand. “My apologies, Gran does enjoy his mischief sometimes. Where were we?”

“Erm.” Crowley was at a loss for words for a minute, but soon he let out a heavy sigh. “Okay look, why did you ring me? I doubt it was for the sheer pleasure of complaining about boredom. That’s more my thing than yours.”

“Of course it is. I’m sure demons have a great many things to complain about.”

“Not gonna go there, but yeah. So what’s this about, then?”

Now that Aziraphale had been reminded of his reason for calling, he grew more earnest as he reclined in the chair. “I just wanted to inform you that two months is inappropriate.”

A loud creak implied that Crowley had sat up a little more in bed. “What?”

“You heard me. Two months of sleep is absolutely not allowed! You cannot just wile away the lockdown in bed, alone in your flat! That is unacceptable.”

“Forgive me for pointing this out, but I gave you two whole days to do with what you will, angel,” Crowley said with a sigh. “If you thought it was such a terrible idea, why didn’t you say anything then?”

Aziraphale briefly thought about all the reasons he could give to explain away his behavior. Every last one of them sounded like poor excuses that weren’t worthy of being contemplated, let alone mentioned. They were weak, flaccid, and he was not the least bit proud of any of them. How had he not noticed this before? Those ‘logical’ excuses he had come up with to account for his antics had worked so well in the old days. He remembered using such lines on Gabriel and Micheal countless times, so much so that they were lingering in readiness on the tip of his tongue at this very moment. The difference was that tonight, he wasn’t dealing with an angel that he could stealthily manipulate. This was Crowley, and the rules of the game had drastically changed. It was about time to put his old tactics behind him, no matter how surreal it felt to do so.

After giving it some thought, Aziraphale decided it would be good to be as honest about his feelings as possible. That was the best policy on most days, or so he’d heard. “I was afraid, I suppose,” he said, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Now that everything has been settled, there’s no need for us to tiptoe around anymore. It’s something that I’ve not gotten used to yet, and I’m sure you understand how hard it is to overcome old habits.”

“Obviously. I know it’s not the kind of thing you can just flick off like a light switch. But we have to make a change sometime, y’know?”

Aziraphale gazed wistfully down at the photo on his desk again. “I do know. I’ve been on the verge of realizing that for a while,” he said, slow and sure. “But your last call was what made me come to my grand conclusion after all this time. The way I used to sit back and wait for you to convince me to pursue something, that was wrong of me. It was somewhat understandable before, given how closely we were being monitored by our respective offices, and even knowing that I feel terrible about it; but continuing to do that to you still is not only unreasonable, but cruel. I’m sorry, my dear, for putting you through so much. I hope you can forgive me.”

There was no reply, not for a decent while. Then Crowley’s voice came slinking carefully through the earpiece. “If I didn’t put my foot down, so to speak, would you have ever thought about dropping this dance we do?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t think I understood how deeply it was ingrained in me until you put that unfortunate extra month onto your sleeping schedule and rang off.”

“So my plan worked?”

“Your plan!? For goodness’ sake, Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed, rolling his eyes. He had kind of suspected that it was consciously done, but still. “That kind of thing takes time to overcome. Even after all this progress, it still might.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be there to encourage you.”

Aziraphale felt the small, happy smile playing across his lips before he could stop it. “You truly mean that?” he couldn’t help asking.

Crowley chuckled, light and small, the sound of it tickling Aziraphale’s ear. “Yeah, ‘course I do! I have the utmost faith in you, angel. If you get stuck, I’ll be around to pull you out. Just ask.”

“Thank you, Crowley. You really are so sweet.”

“But, after two weeks of consideration, does this call mean what I think it means?”

His words were brimming with the same kind of hopefulness that had been expressed during their last call, and through that hope Aziraphale could see the demon’s warm smile if he closed his eyes. That image swiftly consumed him from the inside out. Arms encircling him, kisses pressed to the top of his head, incredibly soft gestures that were begging to be shared between them. The desire was there, and it was nearly overwhelming in its intensity; but Crowley was waiting patiently for an answer, as always, and this time it was up to Aziraphale to give the signal. If he said nothing, if he spoke even remotely in the negative, then Crowley would consider it binding. He _would_ sleep until July, and that _would_ be the end of it. This was where things had gone wrong before, and this was the only opportunity he had to fix it.

Eventually Aziraphale gathered up the courage to nod, his beaming smile carrying his voice aloft with joy. “That is why I rang you, my dear. So you could slither over and watch me eat cake.”

“Ngk.” There was no hesitation in Crowley’s response whatsoever. He leaped off the bed, or it sure sounded that way, and before long the rustling of fabric could be heard. The demon must have been sliding on his jacket, and in a real hurry. “I’ll be right over,” he said, and Aziraphale was positive that Crowley would drive like the wind just to see him. It was so romantic, and on any other occasion he would have loved to watch Crowley come speeding up to the shop.

But… and sadly, there had to be an incontrovertible _but_ …

Not that he was trying to be a stickler, but Aziraphale couldn’t just allow him to openly break the lockdown rules - even though he was a demon, and breaking rules was pretty much the first rule of being a demon. “Are you driving?” he reluctantly asked.

“Aziraphale, I haven’t driven the Bentley in ages. Of course I’m taking it over!”

“But what about the lockdown? We can’t be cavorting about when everyone else is watching from behind closed doors! It will send the wrong message!”

Crowley stopped, letting out an irritated huff. “Really? Hrrngh, sure. Fine. I haven’t driven for this long, what’s another couple months of no driving? Torture. Ugh, forget it, s’okay. So, what’s the other option, then?”

Aziraphale stopped to think, furrowing his brow as Gran’s wobbly face (what appeared to be a face, at any rate) looked up at him from the floor. “I haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“So you don’t have a plan.”

“Other than seeing you? No, Crowley, I don’t.”

A heavy sigh sounded from the other end. “Huh. I could fly over?” Crowley suggested, the sound of flapping wings echoing through the receiver.

“I don’t think so. What if people happened to be looking through their windows and they saw you soaring by?”

“Tell ‘em it’s a big bird.”

Aziraphale smiled fondly. “I doubt they would believe that, dear.”

Crowley sighed harder and slumped down into something, probably his throne. “If I can’t drive and I can’t fly, then what am I gonna do, angel? I can’t just teleport myself into your bookshop!”

“Yes, I’d rather we didn’t try that again,” he mumbled, recalling the scattering of books and pages that had followed Crowley’s first, and final, attempt at long distance travel. It had taken so long to patch everything back up that he had had to resort to miracling some of his books just to be ready for the next day.

“I know, that’s why I said - wait. Hold that thought.”

Crowley sounded a bit further away now, and Aziraphale blinked in confusion. “Crowley? What’s going on?”

But before he could get any response, a loud, scratchy static hissed into his ear from the receiver. Aziraphale yanked it away, staring in shock as something black began to protrude from the earpiece. Slowly the pixelated black substance began to take form. There was the collar of a jacket, bright red, the beaded ends of a bolo tie, a very familiar pair of sunglasses…

And then, with a crackle and a fizz, Crowley’s head was sticking out of the receiver, grinning with smug triumph. “Hey angel! How’s this then? Not breaking the rules now, are we?”

Aziraphale could do nothing but stare. “I didn’t realize you had the ability to travel through the phone lines,” he said.

“Eh, I don’t usually. It’s fun, don’t get me wrong, but hard to control. Real tricky. If I go too fast I might end up somewhere I don’t wanna be.”

That could have been a shrug, but the rest of Crowley was currently still trapped inside the line at the moment, so it was hard to tell. Either way, it was so nice to hear Crowley’s voice in the same room, without miles of separation. Aziraphale held out a supportive hand, smiling all the while. “Might you need some assistance, my dear?” he asked.

Crowley’s tone softened to a low rumble. “Thought you’d never ask.”

A few moments later an arm materialized out of the receiver, and Crowley took his hand. Not much of a pull was needed, and Aziraphale suspected that Crowley could have landed on his feet if he’d wanted. Instead of doing that, he had landed in a satisfying position for the both of them - directly in the angel’s lap. Both legs were straddling Aziraphale’s hips on either side as Crowley leaned closer, draping his arms around sturdy shoulders.

“Can I watch you eat cake now?” he teased, eyes glowing with a mixture of amusement and contentedness beneath his glasses. “I do believe that was the deal.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to say that Crowley could do whatever he damn well pleased, as long as he did it here in the shop with him, but he had quite forgotten than Gran had yet to meet Crowley. In a matter of seconds, the loaf was leaping like an agile cat directly onto Crowley’s face.

“What the!? Ow, he’s biting me! How the He - ow! How is he doing that!? OW! Aziraphale, get this cursed loaf off of my head!”

It was going to be the first long night of many, and there was nothing Aziraphale could have wanted more.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you guys like Gran, the lovely loaf? Well, you can thank @mortuarybees for giving me the idea, thanks to their [lovely loaf post](https://c0ffeeh0use-cynic.tumblr.com/post/616954256693608448/mortuarybees-i-love-aziraphale-but-he-cannot)!
> 
> Come and say hi on Tumblr!
> 
> You can find me at my main blog [@refraingirl](https://refraingirl.tumblr.com/) or at my writing blog [@refraingirl-the-writer](https://refraingirl-the-writer.tumblr.com/)!


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